


Tales of Awakening

by JulianGreystoke



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Horses, Pegasus - Freeform, Romance, Support Conversations, oneshots, rider - Freeform, scenes, will add tags as needed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-20
Updated: 2015-12-23
Packaged: 2018-05-07 20:14:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5469524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JulianGreystoke/pseuds/JulianGreystoke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Playing through Fire Emblem Awakening again and feeling the urge to write a few short one-shots based on support conversations.</p><p>Mostly fluffy, some might be more than that.  No smut though.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sumia and Fredrick

Of Horses and Maidens

Fredrick cursed under his breath, glancing around to make sure no one in the army heard him. He had a reputation for keeping his head. He turned his considerable attention back to the issue at hand. The Shepherds had acquired a small herd of new war horses in thanks from the last village they had liberated. It was always problematic when fresh animals were brought in because you never knew how well trained they were.

For the most part the horses seemed docile enough, but this one. Fredrick squinted against the sun which hung low, threatening to set. His lip curled in frustration. A black horse, lean and tall, was silhouetted against the pastel sky. It snorted, stamped a hoof and swished its tail, ears forward. Fredric knew it was watching him and judging him unworthy. Fredrick heaved a sigh and took another apple from the bucket he had brought. He had never seen a horse so readily dismiss food. His own horse, a bay thoroughbred, was watching from his paddock with a hungry look in his eyes.

Fredrick clucked his tongue, holding the apple out with one hand, and a rope in the other. If the runaway would just get near enough he could loop the rope around the animal's neck. The horse studied Fredrick, swishing his tail again and letting out a low snort. “Come on fella,” Fredrick coaxed, holding out the apple even farther. “Come on then! I have a lovely treat here for you.”

The black horse, which Fredrick had named Raven in his head, twitched an ear, the lowered his head, sniffing, noticing the treat on offer. Fredrick felt a surge of hope, he poised himself to use the rope, slowly raising it, ready. Then, at the last second, Raven balked and, with a toss of his angular head, he trotted away, tail raised.

“No! Nonononono,” Fredrick growled. The horse was making for the treeline, and if he reached it there might be no finding him again.

“Do you need some help?”

Fredrick turned around and a smile twitched on his thin lips, even if he was annoyed. A tall, leggy woman strode towards him. Walking calmly behind the woman was an elegant, white pegasus. “Ah. Sumia,” Fredrick sighed, rubbing the back of his head with the hand that held the rope. “I might, yes. I can't catch this horse and I'm worried it'll be night soon. If he makes for the trees he'll be gone for good.”

“I see your concern,” Sumia agreed, putting her hands behind her back and watching the black horse. Her pegasus blinked lazily and seemed as relaxed as any creature could be. Fredrick wasn't certain how he felt about the winged beasts. Regular horses he understood, but slap a pair of wings on one and he wasn't so certain any more. He cut a glance towards Sumia. She may have been deathly clumsy at times she was the best he had ever seen with horses, winged or otherwise.

“Can you give me a hand?” he asked.

Sumia considered for a moment, her dark eyes glinting in the setting sunlight. It certainly was beautiful the way it shone off her armor and framed her lean figure. “I think I can help,” she nodded, deciding. She held out her hand and he set the rope in it. She gave him a smile and gave back the rope, taking the apple instead. Then she took a bite.

Fredrick laughed, “needed a little snack before you catch that fellow?”

Sumia grinned, a cocky smile he hadn't seen before, and he found he liked it very much. “He can smell the apple better if the skin is broken,” she explained. Then she picked up the bucket of apples and clucked her tongue. Her pegasus, walked over and nuzzled her shoulder. Sumia headed out into the field. Raven the horse watched her with clear mistrust.

Sumia got as near as she dared. Fredrick almost called to her, warning her that she would make the horse flee again, but she stopped at what must have been exactly the right distance. Raven looked tense, ready to run, but unwilling to just yet. Sumia spoke in a low, sweet tone. “Hello there, you fine beauty. Would you like an apple?” she reached into the bucket and handed one of the treats to her pegasus, who was still standing, like a massive, ivory shadow, behind her mistress.

Raven snorted, his ears pricking forward as he watched the other animal docilely eating the treat. Sumia looked up, her expression passive, uncaring. She fed another apple to her pegasus, then casually held out her apple towards Raven. “Would you like a bite?”

Miracle of miracles Fredrick watched as the black horse took a few steps towards the woman and her winged companion. He watched with rapt attention as Sumia coaxed the black horse nearer. Then, to his surprise, when Raven was half way to her, Sumia turned her back, picking up the bucket. Still dangling the bitten apple temptingly she began to walk away, bucket in hand and pegasus striding along behind. To Fredrick's endless shock, Raven followed obediently as a puppy.

Sumia led both horses into the nearest open paddock and set down the bucket. Raven whickered and trotted to it, grabbing greedily at the apples within as Sumia walked coolly to the gate and shut it. She leaned against the fence and smiled as she watched her pegasus and Raven munch down the last of the apples.

“That was amazing,” Fredrick joined her, resting his forearms on the fence and chuckling at the antics of the horses.

Sumia blushed prettily, her cheeks almost matching the muted reds of the sky as the sun made serious inroads towards the horizon. Fredrick found he was taken with the sudden urge to slip his arm around her slender waist, or tuck one of her hands into his. He resisted this urge, though he was certain that he was blushing now too. Sumia was a beautiful woman, a capable soldier, and she cared about Chrom almost as much as he did, though he suspected not in the same way. A pity for poor Sumia that Chrom only had eyes for the mysterious new tactician. He was about to force himself to say something, though he had yet to decide what, when Sumia spoke again. “I know everyone looks at me as the clumsy one. Just yesterday I fell face first into a mud puddle.”

“But you're excellent with horses. Don't tell Sully for Stahl, but you're better with animals than any of us.” Fredrick said, picturing her in the sky astride her beloved pegasus. She was as graceful as a bird. “Now,” Fredrick cleared his throat, feeling deeply awkward, “I need to go figure out how that gate got opened. Perhaps I forgot to latch it-”

“Er,”

Fredrick turned back to see Sumia blushing even more deeply and looked at the ground. “What is it?” he cocked an eyebrow.

“I think...I think I left the gate open when I stopped in to brush the horses earlier today.”

Fredrick sighed, but smiled all the same.


	2. Cherche and Lon'qu

Regrets

“Alright, girl, one more circuit of the camp and then we fetch Sumia for her turn.” Cherche leaned down, patting her mount's neck. The wyvern, Minerva, swiveled her great head around for a moment and gave the lizard equivalent of a grin, before banking to the right.

Cherche let her head fall back. She was on patrol, but it had been a quiet day to say the least. The most movement she'd spotted was the occasional couple moving away from the main camp for some 'time alone'. Cherche knew she could spare a second or two to enjoy the wind in her hair and the feel of gliding, borne up on her wyvern's massive wings.

When she opened her eyes again they were coming lower over the practice yard. She had not even realized she had giving her mount the signal to do so. A delicate squeeze with her heels. The yard had been occupied all day by one, lonesome combatant. Lon'qu. He had been there at least since Cherche and Minerva had begun their duty rotation as sky guard. Cherche watched him as Minerva took the them in a wide, lazy arc around the yard, keeping just high enough not to draw the man's attention. Cherche felt a pang of guilt. She could tell, even from her vantage in the sky, that his motions were methodical. The unconscious movements of an otherwise occupied mind. She knew what held the warrior's thoughts.

Not three days before the pair had been talking, and Cherche had thought herself very clever for figuring out that she had heard of Lon'qu before. She had explained that she had known a family that he had once befriended thinking this would please him. The man was so stand-offish and she imagined he would love a connection to someone, anyone, in the camp. Instead he had become very upset. He'd told her that the family belonged to a woman he had known; a woman who had died. That he blamed himself for her death was obvious.

Cherche blamed herself too, for making his lonesome life even more unhappy. Perhaps it had not even been unhappy before and she had blundered in and ruined it for him. She knew she had to make it right. He had left her before she could explain herself, and the situation with his deceased friend's parents. Perhaps now that he had worn himself out with sword practice, she might sneak in and catch him with his considerable guard down.

She let Minerva take control as they finished up their circuit around the camp, her mind lost in machinations of how to approach Lon'qu. It reminded her of how she might approach a porcupine. Minerva set down in the paddock where the pegasi stood. The winged horses were tethered down, but Minerva was more intelligent even than they. She had no need to a tether to keep her in place. She moved awkwardly on the ground, using the tips of her folded wings as forelegs, making her way over to the water trough to help herself as Cherche slid from the saddle. The wyvern rider's mind was still elsewhere.

“Any trouble today?”

Cherche looked up to see Sumia tightening the girth of her pegasus' saddle. Cherche shook her head to clear it, her deep red hair, tangled from her time in the windy sky, flopped over her face. “Nothing to report. Very quiet day.”

“Great,” Sumia grinned and slipped a foot into the stirrup. She swung a long leg over her mount's back and settled into the saddle. Cherche watched for a moment. Sumia was so tall and leggy Cherche thought she hardly needed the stirrup at all. Cherche herself was shorter, more curvy than her horse-riding companion. Not as short as Sully, she smiled to herself as she thought of the stocky cavalry woman. She could almost hear Sully shouting at her to stop lollygagging and get some work done around the place.

Taking 'imagined Sully's' advice, Cherche took off Minerva's saddle and bridge and put them away in the small tack tent. Normally she might have gone to change out of her armor, or track down some food, but she felt she had a mission. She patted Minerva on her flank. The wyvern was already curling up, nose to tail, for a nap before her dinner, a massive slab of deer meat, was brought out. “I won't be long,” Cherche assured her trusted mount. Minerva merely huffed in reply and languidly stretched a wing.

Cherche sighed, turning nervously to face the practice field. She could see him there, a dark shape, a blur of motion. He hacked apart practice dummies with a mechanical grace. She hoped he wasn't angry enough to swing that deadly blade in her direction. Well, she was still wearing her armor, if it came down to it. She pushed her hair behind her ear and marched across the pasture, climbed over the fence (gates were for people who didn't spend most of their time in the sky), and crossed the empty yard. On her way she spotted a bucket of water, a little tin cup sitting beside it. She collected these and brought them nearer to the fighter.

Lon'qu was out of his armor, wearing a loose fitting white shirt so saturated with sweat he might as well not have been wearing it at all. Cherche could make out the lean, tight muscles of his arms and torso. Her eyebrows went up, but she reserved comment. She could also just catch the outline of several thick scars that etched across his lightly tanned skin. She had a few scars, to be sure, but nothing like these.

Cherche set down the water bucket, watching the man as she did so. He had noticed her, this much she could tell, but he did not hesitate in his blows. Each attack on the practice dummy was punctuated by a grunt of effort. He was tiring.

“Water?” Cherche offered, extending the filled cup.

His dark eyes flicked towards her for a fraction of a second, then back to the dummy. “I need to work. My technique was imperfect in the last battle.”

“No one even hit you in the last battle,” Cherche pointed out. It was true. The skilled swordsman slew every foe that came his way before they even had a chance to swing.

“One came close. It should not have happened.”

“Ah. I see,” Cherche took a sip of the water, realizing that she was thirsty. She decided to forge ahead with her planned topic. “I wanted to talk to you.”

Lon'qu grimaced. “I thought you might. Please, don't.”

“But you need to know-”

“I don't need to know anything,” he lowered his sword, breathing hard, his eyes on her again, like a warning. She might have flinched if she hadn't been ready for the intensity of them. This was a glare that had frightened off most of the other women in the camp. Well, she had raised and trained a wyvern, it would take more than a little glare to unsettle her.

Cherche took another sip of the water then passed the cup to Lon'qu. He looked at it as though he did not trust it. She clucked her tongue with annoyance and plopped it into his free hand with a little splash. “I wanted to talk to you about before. When I said I knew that family from your past. Ke'ri's family.” Lon'qu winced again as though the name were a physical blow.

“I told you not to speak of them.”

“You're not my general,” she said, hoping her tone sounded jovial enough to convey a good natured ribbing. “You can't tell me what to do. I'm like a wyvern that way.”

“Hmph,” Was Lon'qu's answer. He sheathed his sword, moving over to a rock that made a good resting seat for many after practice. Cherche followed him, determined.

“You told me that her family hated you because you got their daughter killed-”

“Which I did-”

“Would you let me speak?!”

Lon'qu blinked several times, a smile twitched at the corner of his lips. He quickly buried it back under his morose glower.

Cherche folded her arms, her armor clanked. “I talked to this family when I rescued them from the bandits. They were mourning their daughter, but also a young man they considered to be their son.” Lon'qu rested against the rock looking pointedly at his boots. “They told me that their daughter, Ke'ri, had died recently. Attacked by the very bandits that Minerva and I slew. They said that, when Ke'ri died, she had been with her best friend. A young boy from the slums. They told me your name, but I didn't remember it until I met you here with the Shepherds.”

“Yes, and then you felt the need to remind me of this deeply painful memory.”

“Yes,” Cherche dipped her head as thought bracing to fly into a bitter wind. “But you don't know the whole story. They took me into their home and fed me as thanks for my saving them. They even let Minerva stay in their yard. They were nice people. Good, kind, people who were not angry with the boy who had disappeared when their daughter died.” Lon'qu snorted, not looking up. “They told me about their daughter and her best friend. How they had been angry at first, thinking he had abandoned their child. But then they found her diary and understood how close the two young people were. They knew then that you would never abandon Ke'ri. You would never willingly let her fall.”

“She protected me in the end,” Lon'qu muttered, still staring at the grass. “We were fighting the bandits, and both of us were seriously injured, but we knew that if we just held on we could win. She was an amazing swordswoman. My better in every aspect. I was beginning to flag. Blood loss and lack of training were making me sloppy. She knew the next blow I sustained would be my last. So, for the rest of the fight, she stepped between me and every blade. Some she was able to block. Others she bore with the fortitude of a true warrior,” he looked up, only for a moment. His hands were clasped, his knuckles almost white with how tightly he was squeezing them. Cherche wished she could twine her fingers between his and loosen them, as she struggled to loosen the pain in his mind.

“Her parents knew it wasn't your fault. They thought of you as a son. They are not angry with you.”

Lon'qu didn't look up at her, merely facing the treeline as though seeing a ghost waiting for him there. Cherche stood silently, having said her piece. She wondered what he was thinking. Had she said the right thing? Had she somehow made it worse. Had she merely been trying to assuage her own guilt, and hadn't been thinking of her at all? Then Lon'qu stood, heaving a long sigh. He looked at her fully for the first time. His eyes were misty, no longer filled with venom. She opened her mouth to say more, but thought better of it. Instead she dipped her head again, this time by way of a goodbye, before turning to walk back towards the camp.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Took a few liberties with this one, as you might have noticed. Decided to make the parents know Lon'qu a bit better than is explicitly stated in the game. *shrugs*  
> Might continue this one with the next convo scene. Might not.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know how many of these I'll do, but i hope you enjoy them all the same. Mostly fluffy, come might be more.


End file.
